


flip the hierophant

by hegemonwings



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Transformation, War Phase spoilers, f.Byleth, light touches of ot3 but primarily edeleth, monster love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 18:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemonwings/pseuds/hegemonwings
Summary: Byleth awakens from her five year coma to find herself slowly and painfully transforming into a dragon.Edelgard struggles with the fact that the woman she cares most for is becoming a symbol representing everything she stands against: a world for humanity.A what-if in chapters; inspired by Hubert's rank A support.





	flip the hierophant

Byleth stands stock still in the courtyard of Garreg Mach, looking into the night sky. Her breathing is shallow -- so shallow that it feels like she’s trying to inhale for a much larger body than the one her still heart occupies. She knows, instinctively, that if she opens her mouth she will choke on the air, so she breathes through her nose and tries to not shudder.

“Professor.”

The quiet voice of a man interrupts her anxious reverie, and she stiffly looks down towards its owner. Some part of her flinches in fear at the concept of moving right now, but she swallows it.

“Hubert.”

The black-clad man steps from the shadows, the only thing giving him away in the dark blue night being the small gold buckles on his outfit and the white of the cloth sling keeping his arm upright and stiff. Byleth wanted to wince every time she saw it; an injury he had sustained from a loose cavalryman's mount. She would have warned him, could’ve directed him out of harm’s way, even would have slipped back through the river of time for the sake of the man’s wellbeing, but…

Well, that was her failure to bear.

“You’re up quite late. Are you feeling well?” His words are strong and steady, as they always are, despite his condition.

“No,” Byleth says after a moment.

A frown falls onto Hubert’s face and they both tumble into an awkward silence. This was their shared weakness; a problem with small talk that could only be mitigated by Edelgard’s presence in their lives. While the Emperor wasn’t quite a social butterfly herself, she felt like the missing piece in their _ esprit de corps, _ the teasing barbs between all three of them flying back and forth easily. Sometimes she even got Hubert to laugh and Byleth to smile.

“How is your condition?” Hubert tries again, a different angle of attack. _  
_

Byleth risks an exhale and inhale, trying to cobble together the energy to speak something resembling a sentence. “Worse, mostly. I’m having trouble keeping anything that isn’t fresh meat down. Hard to breathe. Body aches.” She only briefly considers lying before discarding the notion out of hand; won’t work against Hubert. “Urges.”

A beat passes between them. “Urges?”

“Yes.” She turns to look at him again, meeting his gaze, her tone flat. “The reason your arm is like that is because I was enjoying combat too much. I recognized the danger to you and did nothing to stop it.” _ Why are you telling him this? _ Some part of her begs to reconsider, but it feels so distant and quiet that it barely reaches her thoughts. _ Nothing good can come of this, and you know it. This is glorified self-harm. _  
  
“Is that so?” Hubert’s expression is impossible to read, his dark eyes searching Byleth’s body and stance for some tell that only he can read. But his voice is calm and even. “Are you a danger to those around you, Professor?”

_ Are you a danger to Edelgard, the unspoken question goes. _ “Maybe. I don’t know yet.” Byleth’s thoughts turn with a sudden vision of her own hands (_claws) _hanging over Edelgard’s bare chest and the image sends an invisible spike of pain through her heart, causing her to shiver. “No. What do you think?”

Hubert puts his free hand on his chin in a thinker’s gesture and keeps staring at her. “I believe you were already a creature of pure intellectual instinct even before your sudden merging with the divine. It is both your most valuable trait and your most unpredictable one. When you are in the state you are now, I believe you will default to those instincts to make decisions for you...whether you truly want to or not. If those instincts are tinted with bloodlust for your allies…” He trails off, unspoken conclusion left in the air. Maybe not directly threatening her is Hubert’s way of showing kindness. Maybe she’s earned that much.

“If it looks like that’ll happen…If I just turn into something wretched...” Byleth swallows. She’s not looking at him now, but the flagstones in the ground. “You have to kill me.”

Hubert says nothing for a long time. “Are you sure?” He murmurs after a moment.

Byleth nearly winces in the dark, the gentleness in that quiet statement blind siding her when it comes from him. It is an out, an offer to say ‘just kidding’, morbidly laugh it off, and return to whatever semblance of normality they still held between them. Worse still is the faint note of affection and worry that comes with it, as if he was speaking to a loved one on their deathbed.  
  
_ He sounds like that when he’s talking to Edelgard, _ the analytical part of her mind provides.

“You’re the only one I trust to do it right,” Byleth whispers into the night.

* * *

Hours turn into days turn into weeks.

She gets worse.  
  
Edelgard gives Byleth her old quarters so she can have a place far from the reconstruction work to convalescence in while she tears up Rhea’s old chambers to make a new office for herself. (The symbolic nature of this gesture goes gracefully uncommented on by Hubert.) 

Byleth keeps her mind busy and distinct from her body by pouring over sketches and witness reports of The Great Bridge of Myrddin, the next stop in Edelgard’s war for the future of Fodlan. Her new room quickly fills with books from the library; any relevant text is devoured nigh-instantly, their contents committed to a quickly expanding three dimensional blueprint in Byleth’s head.

All of the Black Eagles visit her in turn, bringing her either a gift or conversation, anything for their beloved teacher. Ferdinand keeps her well-stocked in tea. Linhardt remains awake long enough to bring her reading material. One night, when the pain is especially bad, Dorothea brings her a cold compress and gently sings for her. When the Eagles have had their turns, the students that remained with Edelgard through her declaration come forward too. Ingrid. Lysithea. Felix. Marianne.

It’s nice.

A few days before the battle, Byleth is lingering with a book in the middle of the room, pacing restlessly, a blanket bearing the Imperial eagle emblem on her shoulder. The morning sun lazily filters in through the single window.

“Professor?” Edelgard’s voice outside the door.

Byleth freezes on the spot. “Yes?”

The answer causes a tone of uncertainty to enter Edelgard’s voice, and Byleth immediately kicks herself. “May I speak to you? It is more than fine if you are too tired.”

“No, come in.”

Edelgard does so, shutting the door behind her, and Byleth isn’t quite ready to see her right now so the fact that’s wearing her hair in a side ponytail and in a nightgown completely blindsides her and she suddenly wishes she was sitting down instead of staring like an ass -

“Good morning, my teacher.” Edelgard offers her a small smile. It’s tinged with pity. “I wanted to speak with you before the day began and you are bombarded with the attentions of your adoring crowd. How are you feeling?”

Pressure escapes out of Byleth in the form of a sigh. “Better. Sometimes, at least. Do you want to sit and have tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

Edelgard allows Byleth to prepare the bergamont, her eyes watching every move that Byleth’s hands make with unmasked affection. By the time Byleth has placed two teacups on the small sitting table in the corner of the room, Edelgard’s normal hardness has softened into something like relaxation.

“I assume Manuela and Hanneman visited - oh, this is quite good.”

The faintest hint of a smile inches its way up Byleth’s face and she takes a sip of tea, hoping the hot liquid will stay in her stomach. “Yes, they visited.”

“Have they ascertained anything useful?” Edelgard asks.

“Not particularly.” Shrug. “I am turning into a beast like Rhea and there’s very little anyone can do about it.” It hurts less to admit it like this; casually indifferent, in private. Still, Edelgard flinches a little bit.

“Professor.” She sits her teacup down and looks Byleth in the eyes. “You are not a beast. And you are not Rhea. That will not change.” It was her Emperor voice - almost like invoking a bit of magic, she presses it into law with her authority and belief. Immediately, Byleth regrets making the comment.

“Sorry.”

“It is...fine. Would you like to discuss your plan of attack for the bridge, instead?”

“Yes. That may be easier for me to focus on.” Byleth nudges the book she was reading before Edelgard came in with a finger, pointing out the illustration of the Great Bridge on a page. “You were right about Judith von Daphnel. She does have a very storied military history, especially with defensive battles like the one she will be fighting against us shortly; but I believe this history reveals an exploitable flaw in her tactics.”

“Oh?” Edelgard is smiling gently again, listening to Byleth speak with something approaching passion for the first time in...well, years.

“Yes. She’s fought four skirmishes with similar elements to this one, and in every one of those, she’s fallen back on a variant of the same tactic - an offensive feint followed by a retreat to draw the enemy in while cavalry and wyverns circle around to their backs. The main unit then turns and charges again, creating a surprise pincer attack.”

“I see. Simple, but effective.”

“Very much so. I know she will try it on the Bridge. If I am Judith -” Byleth moves her hand around the illustration rapidly - “I use the tollgate as a fortress, using archers to bait enemies forward at my own pace, and then order my wyverns forward from the north as soon as the enemy is midway down the bridge. The wyverns carry a backup man each to man the defensive emplacements on that side of the bridge, and then they charge the enemy flank.”

“And, still presuming you are Judith,” Edelgard’s smile is outright a smirk now, “what do you do when your tactic is masterfully predicted by the enemy strategist?”

Byleth doesn’t answer, but puts a hand on her chin and stares at the illustration intensely for a minute. “I retreat,” she ventures after a beat, “the capital is not so far that I cannot beat a large enemy force to it, and I have heavy reinforcements shipped in by sea using the port and -”

Byleth looks up at Edelgard for the first time in this discussion, realization on her face. “You knew all this already.”

“Not all of it,” she defends with the same smirk, “but yes, our spies confirmed the battalion’s movements a few days ago. Knowing the reasoning behind it is enlightening though, and more importantly, explaining it distracted you from this...wallowing.”

“I’m not wallowing.” Byleth is pouting now.

“As you say,” Edelgard gracefully concedes, “but your students would still like to see you outside of a sickbed.”

Byleth falls into a troubled silence, trying to find something to stare at. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what I’m feeling anymore now. I’ve been difficult for you since I woke up.” She exhales through her nose.

“Professor. May I see your wrist?”

Byleth dutifully extends her right hand, face up, across the table before she can think to ask why. Even after five years, her body still wanted to follow the emperor’s orders.

Edelgard gently folds the sleeve of Byleth’s long shirt back, exhaling with some surprise when she sees where the solid sheet of jet black scales has replaced the other woman’s skin. She runs her gloved fingers over the pattern, tracing the in-between lines with her thumb while holding Byleth’s wrist in her palm. “My teacher, this may be...sentimental. But: no matter what you are, the fact that you stood by my side when no one else could. Not as a servant or a soldier, but an equal. We are past the point of caring for petty appearances. You are undoubtedly special to me. That will not ever change.”

“U-Uhm.”

Edelgard looks up at Byleth’s face, which has spread into an outright expression of tight-mouthed shock, pink embarrassment coloring her entire face. Immediately she releases her, trying to hide her own embarrassment with a series of coughs. “A-Anyway…! I just wanted to tell you that you are missed. Very well, that’s all, goodbye -”

“Thank you, Edelgard.”

The genuine sincerity in Byleth's whisper blindsides Edelgard, momentarily knocking the urge to flee out of her. She pushes her chair in as she stands. “Yes. Well.” The barest hint of a smile returns. “It’s good to have you back where you belong, Professor.”

A moment passes between them before Edelgard makes an excuse about getting dressed and leaves a little more hastily than she perhaps means to, but Byleth pretends not to notice. She raises her now exposed draconic arm, staring at the scaled pattern creeping up towards her fingers, the black miasma enveloping her body that Edelgard had touched so tenderly.

She clenches her hand into a fist, sighing as deeply as anyone ever has.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the lack of updates on this!!! i'm on vacation but it'll be back soon


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